The class material wasn't all that different from what Melvin had covered in their weekend tutoring sessions—just with a lot more fun trivia thrown in, plus several professors on hand to give pointers and corrections. They'd also cleverly slipped in some Felix Felicis to keep everyone's spirits up, and the students were loving it.
Classes like this were always a blast. There was real learning mixed with entertainment, and time flew by. Before anyone realized it, they were practicing away and it was almost ten o'clock.
"Curfew's almost here," Professor Lewinter announced. "We'll wrap up practice for tonight.
"According to the original plan, any student who's managed a corporeal Patronus was supposed to come up and face a real Dementor. Unfortunately, nobody's pulled off a full one yet."
The floating candles paused in mid-air, their soft light spilling across the Great Hall. Professor Lewinter's shadow stretched over the lectern, a black suitcase at his feet—the kind that held a genuine Dementor.
Harry scratched the back of his neck and swapped an embarrassed look with Hermione.
They'd been practicing the longest, and they still couldn't produce a proper corporeal Patronus.
"Here's what we'll do instead," Lewinter continued. "Most of you have managed the silver mist by now, so tonight we'll try facing the Dementor as a group. I'll release it from the stage and let it pass by each house table. You'll all cast the mist together and drive it back.
"Prefects, pay attention.
"Percy, get Gryffindor organized—front and center!"
Percy pushed his way to the front of the Gryffindor group, wand gripped tight, palms sweaty, but he stood tall all the same.
Everyone raised their wands toward the stage. The black case gave a little shudder. Thin wisps of icy mist leaked from the seams, and a faint chill rippled through the hall—everyone felt it.
Then the lid burst open.
The Dementor shot out, hovering above the tables. It could smell the tempting happiness in the air, and it had been given permission to attack.
Its ragged cloak swooped toward the nearest young witches and wizards, plunging them into shadow. That long, rattling breath echoed through the hall, raising goosebumps on every arm.
Bright silver light flared to life. Threads of mist wove together into a solid wall. The two brightest strands came from Harry and Hermione—their shields already showing faint, curved outlines.
Like morning fog melting under sunlight, the Dementor's cold mist dissolved the instant it touched the silver glow. The trailing chill was forced back along the carpet.
The creature twisted like cornered prey, desperately hunting for an escape.
It was surrounded on all sides.
A shrill screech tore from its hidden mouth—the silver mist was making it miserable. It quickly gave up fighting the Patronus light, folded its cloak, and dove back into the case.
"Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn't pass out this time!"
The students were still buzzing with excitement.
"The Patronus Charm is one of the most difficult ancient spells there is," Professor Lewinter said, "but I'm confident you've all caught it by the tail. Keep practicing diligently, and you'll master it soon enough. I swear it on Merlin's name."
He paused, then smiled. "Congratulations—you just beat a Dementor."
For a second the hall went quiet… then it erupted. Everyone threw their hands in the air, cheering wildly. Girls hugged each other in excitement; boys high-fived and whooped.
Harry joined in the shouting and slapping palms with his housemates. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Cho Zhang over with the Ravenclaws, giving him a nod and a warm smile.
His mood shot straight up. Cho had definitely seen how well he'd done—she had to be impressed.
…
Late evening, Saturday, December 18, 1993.
The Muggle Studies office was busy.
The air smelled of cedarwood ink—the new winter scent from Scribbulus quills. It was faint when you first uncorked the bottle, but grew richer as you wrote.
Last week's third-year essays were stacked on the desk, each already marked with Professor Lewinter's brief comments. Hermione couldn't resist adding her own tiny, neat notes in the margins—usually recommended reading, down to the exact chapter.
Why were weekend tutoring students grading papers? Was this part of the lesson… or still detention?
Why all the copying last time, and now more detention on top of it?
Still, marking essays helped solidify her own understanding, strengthened the basics, and broadened her thinking. Plus, with Professor Lewinter highlighting key points and introducing wizarding perspectives, everyday Muggle things suddenly felt fresh and fascinating.
These Saturday nights had become pretty pleasant, all things considered.
Hermione scribbled comments while sipping from a mug of hot cocoa on her right. The sweet chocolate mingled with the cedar ink, the fireplace crackled cheerfully, and big snowflakes drifted past the window. Everything felt cozy.
In the chair beside her sat her fellow tutoring classmate—old, narrow-rimmed glasses, bright green eyes.
He couldn't sit still. While copying notes he kept glancing around: at the professor reading nearby, at her, at the snow outside, at the occasional silver flashes in the courtyard—like there were pins on his seat.
Hermione knew exactly why he was fidgeting.
Ever since last week's open lesson, the whole school had been obsessed with practicing the Patronus Charm, racing to be the first to produce a corporeal one. Some students had discovered that practicing in groups worked better—the atmosphere was more intense.
Tonight, the Frog Choir, Drama Club, and Gobstones Club had organized a big event. Half the school was out in the courtyard practicing Patronuses.
Professors Flitwick and Sprout were there giving guidance, older students swapped tips, and George and Fred promised to contribute a couple of leftover Cheerful Crackers soaked in Felix Felicis from the old Dueling Club stash.
A lot of people were convinced someone would manage a full Patronus tonight—probably Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff.
"Come on, let's get this grading done," Hermione said, dipping her quill and giving Harry a meaningful look.
Harry thought she was staring at him the same way professors looked at students—especially like McGonagall or Lewinter, full of grown-up expectation.
He didn't mind, though. His thoughts were on Ravenclaw's Seeker. They'd run into each other in the corridors several times lately, and she always said hello.
Her voice was soft and slow when she spoke.
He bet her Patronus would be a nightingale.
"Heh…" Harry grinned stupidly at his parchment.
Ten minutes ago, Parvati's essay had been on top.
Ten minutes later, it still was.
Good thing Hermione was working hard enough for both of them—she'd finish the third-years' pile and make sure at least her detention didn't run long.
Tutoring time ended soon enough.
Nearly a hundred essays from all four houses, sorted by grade.
Gryffindor's "Outstanding" stack was noticeably taller. Harry sneaked a guilty glance at the professor—he'd quietly bumped up a few scores for his friends.
Slytherin's pile was clearly shorter. Hermione kept her eyes forward; she hadn't been unfair, just thorough, spending extra time pointing out mistakes.
Professor Lewinter flipped through them calmly, then pulled a few from the Gryffindor stack and set them aside—Ron's, Seamus's, Dean's, all with glaring "A"s.
"…"
Harry stayed quiet. He just… wasn't great at grading yet.
Hermione pretended to sip from an empty porcelain teacup, like she was thirsty from all the work, though her eyes flicked nervously.
"Professor," she said, changing the subject, "I still don't understand why I'm in detention."
It was a clumsy diversion, but it worked.
"You'll figure it out soon enough," Lewinter replied vaguely.
Hermione didn't push it—she'd already succeeded.
"What about me?" Harry asked, leaning in.
"You were out at night under the Invisibility Cloak, trying to eavesdrop on professors, and you even sneaked into Remus's office."
"You're the one who dragged me in there!" Harry protested.
"Want to take it up with Headmaster Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall?" Lewinter gave him a mild glance. "I've got time."
"No, sir."
"Then head back. You can still catch the courtyard activities." Lewinter gathered the essays.
The two tutoring students left the office, pausing at the door to wish him good night before gently closing it behind them—like a perfectly harmonious student-teacher moment.
Lewinter just nodded and smiled, saying nothing.
…
Harry leaned against the corridor railing, peering out at the courtyard. The lively scene made his face fall bit by bit.
"What do you see? That look… did Malfoy manage a corporeal Patronus or something?"
Hermione, walking beside him, poked his elbow. "Don't worry about it. He probably practiced at home over the summer. Relax—your Patronus is tied to your mood."
"No way. A dark wizard like Malfoy? I bet he can't even produce a shield." Harry waved it off irritably. "It's not Malfoy. It's Cedric—he's got a clear outline now. Can't tell what it is, but everyone's crowding around congratulating him."
Including Cho Zhang. They were standing really close, talking and laughing, looking awfully friendly.
Harry felt worse the more he thought about it.
"It's fine," Hermione said, relieved. "We've got outlines too. We just need steady practice."
"I know… I can see my Patronus taking shape. It's just…" Harry didn't know how to explain.
Hermione leaned out to look, but all she saw was the busy courtyard—nothing special.
She studied Harry, a thoughtful look in her eyes.
There was still some time before lights-out. Students filled the covered walkway around the courtyard, which had been decorated like a winter wonderland. Tiny crystal lanterns hung from the stones—some with candles, some with oil wicks—looking like little flowers blooming in the snow.
Banners from a few student clubs hung on the two granite wizard statues. Robed students clustered in small groups practicing, while the two professors wandered around offering advice. Percy was drifting about too, counting how many people were staying over Christmas.
"Harry, Hermione—are you two going home for Christmas?" Percy asked, clipboard in hand, Head Boy badge gleaming on his chest.
"Back to the Dursleys? Nah, I'm staying. I'd rather use the holiday to nail this Patronus," Harry shrugged.
"Me too," Hermione said, signing the list.
"What about you lot?" Percy turned to the nearby Gryffindors.
"Do you even need to ask?" Ron sighed. "Mum and Dad are off skiing. What would we eat at home—snow from the garden, frozen gnomes, the ghoul banging pipes in the attic? No thanks. I'm staying for the feast."
Neville, Seamus, and a few others were heading home.
"Well, I've got good news," Percy said, tucking away the clipboard and clapping them on the shoulders. "The Fat Lady's almost fully recovered. She'll be back on duty right after Christmas, so we won't have to keep using Sir Cadogan's ridiculous passwords…"
With the holidays so close, everyone in the courtyard was even more energized—the practice atmosphere was electric.
"Did anything exciting happen out here while we were grading?" Hermione asked, eyes bright.
"Nothing major," Ron said, counting on his fingers. "Still nobody with a full Patronus. Flitwick and Sprout are coaching, prefects are doing the Christmas stay list, Percy hasn't noticed George and Fred swapped his badge yet, Cedric's got an outline…"
"Anything else?" Hermione flicked her wand, producing a silvery orb that faintly showed a small, cute creature.
"A bunch of people practicing spells in the courtyard—not exactly a duel. What else would happen?"
Ron suddenly stopped, nodded toward the corner of the walkway, and lowered his voice. "Does Snape showing up count?"
"Professor Snape?"
Everyone turned.
There he was—that blank face, greasy black hair hanging on both sides, hooked nose sharp as ever, dark eyes glinting, tall thin frame wrapped in dark green robes.
He stood where shadow met lantern light, looking like some demon spying from the dark.
"Doesn't he usually hide in the dungeons brewing poisons after hours?" Ron muttered. "What's he doing here?"
"Have you guys noticed we keep running into the old bat lately?"
"He's definitely plotting to poison someone!"
"Actually… I think he might be following me," Harry said hesitantly, then explained his recent run-ins.
He'd been bumping into Snape way too often—more than even his chance meetings with Cho.
Besides weekly Potions, he'd see that cold face in the corridors every day between classes. At meals in the Great Hall, every time Harry glanced up at the staff table, Snape's eyes were already on him.
"At first I thought he was just looking for reasons to take House points, but Slytherin's so far ahead now. This weird attention feels… off."
Harry frowned.
"He's definitely up to something shady," Ron said, chin in hand, frowning too. "If only we could tail him instead—but we've got classes, and that old bat's way too watchful. He's always staring at us."
Hermione's hand unconsciously went to the chain around her neck. "Maybe… I could help."